


Wicked Game

by hannibalmontanabal



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Gore, M/M, Porn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalmontanabal/pseuds/hannibalmontanabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is for the prompt I got a while ago when I was drunk: “Anonymous asked: I want a fic where Hannibal slices Will’s back open and fucks his organs then he chokes him with his spine”</p><p>So I probably don't need to tell you that this is riddled with trigger warnings and if you're squeamish, don't read it.</p><p> </p><p>"But Hannibal was always under Will’s skin, burning deep inside him, snaking his way through the valves of Will’s heart and pumping through his veins. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Game

When Will becomes more or less conscious, he realizes with some curiosity and wonder that he's in Hannibal Lecter's living room, splayed out along the couch, and draped in a very soft black blanket. The last thing Will remembers is that he'd been struggling to fall asleep in his own bed.

He must have walked here in his sleep. No short distance, certainly. His legs ache and his feet sting, but he doesn't really mind.

He feels the blush of embarrassment creep into his neck and huffs a sigh. There's something a little bit too intimate in the fact that his subconscious pulled him all the way to Hannibal's home. It would appear that his co-dependency runs that deep.

Will wonders at how Hannibal must have reacted upon seeing him, and fears that he may have awoken the psychiatrist. Although he hopes that he isn't proving to be too much of a burden, there is admittedly a kind of dirty excitement in knowing that Hannibal was willing to care for him, even as he showed up at the man's doorstep, unconscious and disoriented. That it is probably an ungodly hour, and here he is, on Dr. Lecter's luxurious couch, wearing only a thin tee shirt and his underwear. Hannibal could have easily driven him back home, or woken him from his slumber, but instead welcomed him in and let him sleep in the expansive labyrinth of Hannibal's home.

To Will, it seems like a beautifully haunted castle from a fairy tale. Strange looming shadows stretching from various statues, like gargoyles that threaten to awaken at any moment. Thousands of old books, exquisite paintings depicting hideous acts, and so many mysterious rooms. Will wants to take it all in. Wants to explore every lovely and forbidden secret that Hannibal's home has to offer. To learn which floorboards creak, and which walls have chipped paint along the edges of their corners. Will wants to curl up in the safety of these enchanted walls for the rest of his life, and perhaps to become a decoration that Hannibal might own with pride. A center piece at the psychiatrist's dinner table, or perhaps a work of art. Will recalls that Hannibal once compared him to a cherub in a Renaissance period painting. Maybe he would make for a fine conversation piece in Hannibal's home. 

He pulls himself into a sitting position and yawns, glancing around himself. Hannibal isn't here, but Will can hear the distinct sound of a harpsichord being played in a distant room. Suddenly Will feels as though he's awoken to find himself in The Phantom of the Opera. It's strangely fitting. 

"Dr. Lecter?" Will calls, the doctor's first name still feeling foreign on his tongue despite the present circumstances. Despite the fact that Will has fantasized countless times about being alone with Hannibal, being claimed by Hannibal in so many ways, brought to the edge of oblivion by Hannibal's own hand. So often had he imagined himself draped across Hannibal's desk, or the chaise lounge. Or that time that he'd gotten a little bit bold and all but invited Hannibal to shove him against that ladder and dominate his mouth. Hannibal hadn't taken the invitation, of course. Probably didn't even notice; Will isn't the sort of man who takes what he wants. Not outright. But he imagines with pleasure what might have happened had Hannibal closed the small amount of space between them.

Will is careful to make certain that Hannibal's first name is sacred; only to be used on special occasions. He smiles to himself, knowing that he'd like very much to cry out the good doctor's name at the point of climax. Scream it like a feverish prayer, tonguing his way around the pronunciation and tasting the word on his tongue like holy sacrament. 

There is something about Hannibal that is irresistible and magnetic. A kind of mysterious and smoky darkness, much like rich black coffee that is nearly too strong, but never quite bitter. The kind of coffee that you can feel staining your lips and tongue, burning your insides with satisfaction all the way down. Will wants to taste Hannibal, and to feel the way he burns.

Will wonders if Hannibal knows the extent of how much Will wants him. If that would potentially dismantle their doctor-patient arrangement, and possibly even unravel their friendship. It would probably be considered highly inappropriate, but certainly Hannibal is aware of it in some capacity (after all, does he not understand Will's mind just a little too well?), and therefore allows it to a certain extent? Will shivers at the thought that maybe Hannibal feels the same tingling lust. That maybe the sexual tension is shared between them like the breath of lovers, and perhaps that it is a struggle for Hannibal to keep his distance. Will doubts it, but the idea is enough for him to close his eyes and imagine, if only for a moment. 

"Dr. Lecter?" Will repeats again.

The tinkering of the harpsichord stops, and after a moment Hannibal enters the living room and smiles warmly when he sees that Will is awake.

"Ah, Will." He says, pulling a hand through his hair, which causes it to become uncharacteristically ruffled. "It seems that your troubled mind brought you to my door without your consent." 

"Sorry about that." Will frowns, fidgeting with the corner of the blanket. 

"No need to apologize. I take pleasure in being able to provide you with comfort and safety." Hannibal says. "And I would be lying if I said it wasn't somewhat flattering that your subconscious brought you to me."

"You bring me peace, I think." Will mutters, his eyes glancing up to catch Hannibal's for a fleeting moment. Will thinks he catches a glimpse of something behind Hannibal's smile, like the shadow that disappears into one's periphery. He can't be sure, however.

"I was just about to make some tea, would you care for some?"

"That'd be great, thanks." Will answers, hugging his knees to his chest. Hannibal gives a small nod.

"I'll be right out with some then." He says before disappearing into another room. Will can hear the kitchen cupboards opening and closing, and then there's the sound of running water and clinking porcelain. The sounds of Hannibal's home are warm and earthy, and Will finds comfort in listening. In not being alone in his own house. It's grounding, in a way. Will never expected to find sanctuary outside of the safe security of his own walls, but it seems that whenever he's with Hannibal, he feels at home. 

A few minutes pass, and there's the tell-tale whistle of Hannibal's ceramic tea kettle, and then the sound of liquid being poured. Hannibal returns, carrying a wooden tray with two tea cups. He hands one to Will before sitting in the leather chair across from him.

"I find that tea can warm away my inner demons in the late hours." Hannibal says, sniffing the concoction before putting the cup to his lips. "It is a blend of jasmine, lavender, green tea, and a very subtle hint of Madagascan vanilla."

Will sips it, and of course it's heavenly. He leans back and sighs.

"It's very good." He says, and Hannibal seems pleased.

They sit in silence for a while, drinking in the tea and the company, skirting along the edge of flirtatious eye contact. Or at least, Will hopes the undertones are flirtatious. He hadn't noticed before, but Hannibal's eyes are, in this lighting, the color of honey tinged with blood. Will aches to get a closer look, to get lost in the eyes of the only one he truly trusts, but something keeps him in his seat.

It's not very long before he feels like his head is swimming dreamily. It's as though his soul is a balloon, floating a little ways above him, just barely tethered to his own body as if by a single thin ribbon. His entire being seems to vibrate, and he realizes too late that he's been drugged.

"Doctor?" He asks, and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He licks his lips, frowning in confusion. "I feel.. What did you say was in the tea?" 

Hannibal simply smiles and stands, moving swiftly to Will and easily taking the tea cup from him, setting it down on the coffee table. He leans down and gently cups Will's chin, scanning his eyes thoughtfully for a moment before pushing a kiss to Will's lips. Will gasps softly, and Hannibal inhales, stealing Will's breath before deepening the kiss and using his tongue to pry Will's lips apart. Will clumsily grabs for purchase at the back of Hannibal's neck, pulling him closer with a muffled moan. Hannibal complies, bending down further and ghosting his tongue along Will's teeth before pulling Will's lower lip between his own teeth and sucking on it. Will gasps again, and Hannibal pulls back, looking flushed. Will notices with a dulled sense of surprise that Hannibal tastes like blood rather than tea.

"Come now, dear Will." Hannibal commands smoothly, and he lifts Will into his arms with seemingly no effort at all. "I have plans for you."

Hannibal carries Will through the house, and Will doesn't fight it. He's disoriented and it seems as though Hannibal is carrying him through secret passageways. Will stares around him, though he isn't really paying attention to anything in particular. There's so much art on the walls. So much decadence in the dimming light that Will just blinks, his mouth slack and his head rolling in his stupor. He grasps at Hannibal's shirt, fumbling awkwardly at the buttons. He's not really trying to unfasten them, just looking for something solid to hold onto, though one button comes undone. He doesn't notice when Hannibal walks past the bedroom and instead carries Will down a flight of stairs. Doesn't even really notice when Hannibal gently lays him onto a metal gurney and uses leather straps to bind his wrists and ankles. He does, however, notice when Hannibal puts on a pair of soft leather gloves and holds a scalpel up to examine it in the harsh fluorescent light. It's a scene stolen straight from a horror movie, and it's only now that Will realizes that something is very wrong. There's no art on the walls in this room. Only the rusted gurney and a white claw-footed bathtub in the corner, the inside of which is stained reddish brown. Hannibal's attention is on a medical cart that displays an array surgical instruments, and Will starts to struggle against the leather that binds him.

"Dr. Lecter.." He whispers, and Hannibal smiles at him. 

"Yes, Will?"

"I don't think this is... What are you going to do with me?" Will bites his lip and stares at Hannibal, wishing that his senses weren't dulled by the drugs Hannibal slipped into his tea. Hannibal seems to give this some thought, before smiling softly and running a gloved hand through Will's curls.

"What would you like me to do?" He asks, a strange mania on the edge of his tone. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way that you look at me William. I can smell your arousal from here. Let me just say, your pheromones are absolutely exquisite."

"This... S'not really what I had in mind." Will mutters, struggling to focus. Hannibal nods.

"Hm, no. I suppose not. But what's to be done about that, really?" He says with a shrug, setting the scalpel down and bending over Will, seeming to smell him again. "You're dizzy with want, aren't you? Do you want me to kiss you again, Will?" 

Will hesitates. He does. He really does, but he knows that this is wrong. They should be in bed, not here. Still, he nods. 

"I want my hands free." He says, looking up into Hannibal's face. "I.. I want to touch you." 

Hannibal seems to consider this for a moment, before leaning down and kissing Will again. This time it's a violent clashing of teeth, and Hannibal snarls into Will's mouth, growling possessively as he takes Will's tongue and bites it gently. 

"Please free my hands." Will rasps, licking eagerly at Hannibal's lips. 

And Hannibal does so without breaking the kiss. With both hands free, Will pulls Hannibal on top of him, and Hannibal straddles Will's hips, making the gurney tremble slightly beneath the strain. 

"Tell me what you want." Hannibal whispers into Will's ear before sucking roughly at his throat, and Will shivers with a broken moan as Hannibal runs his fingers down Will's stomach, stopping at the waistband of Will's boxers. "Tell me."

"I want you." Will hisses. "I want you to fuck me." 

Hannibal chuckles darkly, extracting Will's half-hard erection from the worn material and stroking it idly.

"Is that all?" Hannibal whispers, and Will tangles his fingers into Hannibal's hair.

"No." Will replies, leaning up and feathering kisses along Hannibal's jaw. "No, I want you to dominate me."

"I see. And I presume you've been wanting this for a while, then?" Hannibal purrs, and Will grunts indignantly before biting Hannibal's throat and sucking a bruise there. He doesn't want to talk about his feelings like he's in a therapy session. 

"Yes." Will hisses, arching his hips up to Hannibal's hand, wanting the message to be clear. Hannibal's hand picks up speed, and Will whimpers, tilting his head back.

"Oh, the lovely noises I could pull from you, Will. I could play you like a finely tuned instrument and fill these walls with a symphony of you." Hannibal breathes, licking at a pulse point on Will's throat. Will simply moans, too lost to respond as heat begins to coil in the base of his spine already. As though Hannibal can read his mind, the hand stops and Hannibal pulls himself off of the gurney. "Not yet." 

"Hannibal." Will whimpers, enjoying the way the name sounds when he says it. Hannibal smiles before pushing Will onto his side. "Do you trust me, Will?" 

"I do." Will answers with no hesitation. 

"And you'll let me have my way with you?" 

"Please."

"Very well. The safety word will be temporal lobe, understood?" Will nods, and Hannibal flips Will onto his stomach before taking his wrists and binding them again. "This is for the pain which you might experience." Hannibal holds a syringe up and injects something into Will's neck, and Will gasps in surprise. 

"The pain?"

"Yes. There's no need for this to be painful for you." 

Will hears Hannibal retrieve something from the cart with the surgical instruments, and when he returns he holds the scalpel. 

"Tell me if this hurts." Hannibal says softly before making a small incision along Will's cheek. 

"Not really." Will mumbles, and Hannibal nods. 

"Very good." Hannibal says, hiking up Will's shirt before disappearing again from Will's line of sight. Will feels something run smoothly down his back, similar to feeling a zipper unzip. There's a strange dull pain that runs along his spine. "You're doing very well, Will."

"What are you doing?" Will asks. Hannibal ignores him, and climbs back onto the metal gurney, straddling Will from behind.

"I'm feeling you from the inside out." Hannibal replies, and Will notes that Hannibal's voice is thick with lust. Will can't see anything, laying as he is, but he begins to realize that Hannibal's hand seems to be feeling its way around Will's internal organs. He doesn't say anything, wondering if he's hallucinating. "Will, I have a confession to make." 

"Mmm?"

"I am The Chesapeake Ripper." Hannibal tells him, and Will feels the shock wash over him in waves.

"What?" He murmurs, realizing that Hannibal really is stroking his insides. He begins to struggle violently against his restraints, panicking. 

"Now, Will. You told me that you trusted me, and you'll cause yourself a great deal of damage should you attempt to get away now." 

"Let me go. Please, don't kill me." Will is pleading. Hannibal sighs.

"I have no intention of killing you Will, relax." Will feels what is very likely to be Hannibal's hand wrapping around his heart, and he gasps at the sensation. He realizes that Hannibal is fucking into his back, and bites his lip, mortified. Hannibal pulls him up by the hips until Will is on his knees. It's a somewhat awkward position, but Will momentarily forgets his own discomfort when Hannibal's hand begins roughly stroking his cock again. 

There's an overwhelming conflict of sensation and emotion, and Will whines deep from within his throat. Hannibal is breathing him in, lips ghosting along his hairline with each thrust, and Will wonders if this is sanitary. Wonders if he can die from this. 

Hannibal's hand expertly twists and Will feels himself get hard despite everything else. He realizes that he was given a safety word, and he probably could have stopped all of this from happening. He contemplates the consequences of using it now, but decides that it's too late, really. There would be no point and he's so close, now. 

Hannibal kisses his shoulders, leaving a string of love bites everywhere his lips touch. Will can feel the jarring sensation of being fucked literally inside out, and screws his eyes shut, confused and aroused and vulnerable. And Hannibal is groaning, growling possessively with each thrust as he fists Will's erection. He reaches a free hand around and traces his fingers along Will's lips, and Will licks his own blood from Hannibal's fingers. He wants to care that Hannibal is a murderer, a cannibal. Wants to care that Hannibal drugged him and seduced him and sliced his back open. 

But Hannibal was always under Will's skin, burning deep inside him, snaking his way through the valves of Will's heart and pumping through his veins. 

Will lets a strangled moan escape and comes in spurts, whimpering as he unravels in Hannibal's steady hands. Hannibal stops fucking him, and after a moment Will feels him loosening something from deep inside. Will realizes with silent horror that Hannibal has removed his spinal column. He jumps down from the gurney and holds the bones up to the light, showing Will what he's lost. Will opens his mouth to scream, but Hannibal shoves Will's spine back down his throat, silencing him forever. 

 

Will gags and sputters, screaming for mercy. His dogs howl with him, and he sits up in bed, realizing that it was all just a horrific dream. He's been home all along. 

He runs a shaky hand through his hair and puts his feet on the ground, feeling the soothing familiarity of his own floor. 

He realizes that he can't really remember what the nightmare had been, only that it was horrific. That it had felt like a kind of warning. He sighs, pulling his sweat drenched shirt off of his back and slowly walking to his dresser to put on a clean one. 

Winston brushes against his side and licks lovingly at his hand, and Will smiles weakly.

There is a knock at the door, and Will knows that it's probably Hannibal. 

Slowly he walks towards the door and opens it, smiling and inviting the doctor in.

"Hello, Will. How did you sleep?"

"I had a nightmare. Nothing out of the ordinary, I don't think." Will replies, watching Hannibal pull two plastic food containers from a bag. "I don't remember it." 

Hannibal nods, handing Will his food before pausing. 

"Will, you've cut your cheek." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was really challenging to write. Especially given that my knowledge on anatomy and medical practices are extremely limited, and it's hard to write from the point of view of someone who consents to having their organs groped.  
> Comments, kudos, questions and critique always appreciated.


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